


Feedback Loop

by PompousPickle



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Praise Kink, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 05:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17277821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PompousPickle/pseuds/PompousPickle
Summary: Relationships work on inputs and outputs(or "Yamato is worried he's already destroyed his new relationship, when in reality Mitsuki is just horny")





	Feedback Loop

Mitsuki liked being praised.

Yamato was already well aware of this, of course. It wasn’t particularly a secret. Mitsuki practically glowed whenever someone complimented him. He bounced around with immeasurable energy. And on more than one occasion, he burst into tears. He deserved every bit of praise he worked for, and he clamored and clung onto every bit of it.

Things changed after they got together.

“Your side-step is really improving, Mitsu,” Yamato smiled softly as he handed Mitsuki a towel. “Good work today.”

It wasn’t praise he hadn’t heard from the dance instructor, but Mitsuki still bristled, quietly ripping the towel from Yamato’s hands. “…of course it is! Tamaki-kun has been giving me lots of pointers, after all!” He cleaned the sweat off his face, burying his face into the towel before running it over his hair, his smile just barely reaching his eyes.

Yamato faltered. It wasn’t unlike Mitsuki to push praise onto the other members of IDOLiSH7. It was a part of his job as an MC. But it definitely wasn’t like him to simply deflect, especially when they weren’t on live TV. When it was just the two of them, after practice and heading back to the dorms to get food and drinks. He was supposed to laugh and bounce and tease, the things Mitsuki did.  

He tried again.

“Remind me to thank him, then. You looked incredible out there.”

This time, Mitsuki tensed visibly, his pace faltering as they walked to the parking lot to meet up with the others. He shook it off, elbowing Yamato in the arm. “Shut up, Old Man.” He was still smiling, but he was looking towards the walls of the studio.

“I’m serious. You really wer-“

“I said _shut up_.” His smile disappeared, for only a second, and Yamato was sure he had done something wrong.  He ran it through his head, for a moment, quickly playing back his words and Mitsuki’s reactions. Something twisted inside of him, wondering if he had already destroyed something so soon.  

But once they all piled in Tsumugi’s van, Mitsuki sighed happily. He nestled himself against Yamato’s side, pressing into the other man’s body as he grinned. “That was fun, right? I think I’m really getting it this time!” He excitedly turned to Nagi, who eagerly agreed, and the two chattered away the whole ride. The coiled feeling inside of Yamato slightly relaxed, at the mere touch of Mitsuki’s skin against his own.

\---

Well after dinner that night, Mitsuki started to set up his phone and portable speaker. He headed towards the dormitory door, likely for an impromptu dance practice.  

“Wait. Again? We just had dance lessons today, Mitsu,” Yamato popped open a beer from his spot on the couch. He raised an eyebrow, wondering if he should attempt to stop the guy. Yamato knew he wasn’t exactly the source on putting full effort into things, but he also knew that there was such a thing as over-doing it. And Mitsuki seemed to toe that line constantly.

“Yeah, I know. But I got really pumped up today! Now I’ve got dinner in me and I’m just itching to try again!” Mitsuki grinned, showing no implication of slowing down, and Yamato was helpless. He couldn’t stop him even if he wanted to.

“Besides,” Mitsuki glanced away, once again avoiding eye-contact, “it’ll be nice to practice without any distractions.” Mitsuki’s cheeks looked just barely flushed over, and Yamato wondered if he was imagining things.

“Distractions?”

“Yeah, you know…” Mitsuki waved his hands, as though that were enough of an explanation. He grabbed for his shoes, sliding them on and beginning to tie them up. He seemed fascinated with the laces, pointedly looking away from Yamato.

“I really don’t, Mitsu.” He wondered if he should ask if he was doing something wrong. If _they_ were wrong. If he were distracting the man from his work as an idol, somehow. They didn’t have a name for whatever was going on between them, and it was still all too new. For things to already be off balance…

“It’s nothing! It’ll just be nice to go out without you watching me, and lumping on praise constantly! I need to focus if I want to get these steps right.”

Yamato blinked, tilting his head. “But I like watching you.”

Mitsuki flushed over again, and this time Yamato was certain he wasn’t imagining it.

Yamato put the beer down, and stood up. He half expected Mitsuki to dart out the door, to go practice on his own. But the other man didn’t move. Yamato watched him, carefully, and Mitsuki finally looked back, meeting his eyes. “Sorry,” Mitsuki said with a small smile. “I’m glad you like it. But I’m…”

“It’s kind of hot, actually,” Yamato said, wondering just how much was too much. Wondering at what point Mitsuki was going to shut him out again. He moved in a little closer, eyes trained on Mitsuki.

“You’re being gross, Old Man.” Mitsuki was looking at the door, but he wasn’t moving an inch. Soon, he and Yamato were scarcely a foot a part.

“Ah, am I? Sorry. I’m just speaking the truth,” Yamato shrugged, with a smile, not intending on stopping. “You out there, getting all sweaty and worked up. It’s enough to give an oniisan a heart attack.”

Yamato’s feet hit the toe of Mitsuki’s shoes, and they were now just barely touching, inches apart. Mitsuki was looking up at him, brows furrowed and eyes searching, as though trying to communicate something. But he didn’t speak a word. He had agreed to bare himself to Mitsuki, no matter how hard it was. He never expected Mitsuki to hide a part of himself in return.

“It’s not like you to be so dishonest,” Yamato finally said, tentatively resting his hands on Mitsuki’s arms. Mitsuki didn’t move away, and Yamato let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. He felt stunted, and stripped bare, in a way that only Mitsuki Izumi truly made him feel.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Mitsuki finally relented, with a sigh, and Yamato blinked.

“Eh?’

“Praising me. I didn’t tell you to _stop_ , Old Man.”

Oh.

Praising Mitsuki was always something that came natural to Yamato. It was his job, first and foremost, to make sure every member of IDOLiSH7 was happy. And seeing the fruits of all of his labors made Mitsuki happy. Plus, if Yamato were being honest with himself, there was a lot about Mitsuki that was worthy of praise.

But now, he was turning Yamato around, slowly and methodically, until his back was nearly pressed against the door. He was looking up at him, chin cocked upwards with a tiny smile on his face.  His leg rocked forward, until it was centimeters away from Yamato’s crotch. And Yamato suddenly couldn’t think of kind words to say.

“Well?”

“You’re…you’re really putting this oniisan on the spot, aren’t you?” Yamato scrambled. He was a better actor than this, he knew. But for some reason, Mitsuki made him want to stop pretending to know the perfect words to say. “You always do that,” he finally managed. “You always surprise me, Mitsu. I never know what to expect, and it always just makes me want more.”

Mitsuki’s eyes flickered, his smile widening until it was no longer soft and speculative. He pressed his leg forward, and Yamato looked around the dorm entrance quickly before realizing they were completely alone. Almost automatically, his legs slid open, until Mitsuki’s thigh was pressing against the center of his boyfriend’s crotch.

“And?”

Yamato groaned. “Can we at least take it this to the bedroom? You might scar Ichi for life if he has t-”

“We’ll see if you can get that far.” Mitsuki shifted his leg, and suddenly the game they were playing became very dangerous. Yamato wanted more. He wanted everything. And in order to get it…

“Please Mitsu,” he tried, quietly. “You know I love when you force me to grind against you.” Yamato flushed over, praying that Mitsuki couldn’t tell just how embarrassed he was, and just how much he was beginning to enjoy it. “When you take over like this, you have no idea how incredible you look. Just like on stage, when you take the mic duri-”

Mitsuki pressed his leg forward, and Yamato hadn’t realized how excited he had become. He choked on his words, letting out a shaky breath. “It’s so good,” he murmured, and he was rewarded with the feeling of Mitsuki’s chest against his. Mitsuki had abandoned his coat, and started to pull away his legs as he shuffled out of his shoes. Yamato followed the motion, unwilling to give up the closeness.

“I meant it,” Yamato tried, again. Mitsuki’s hands crawled up around the back of his neck, warm fingers against the base of his head, just barely digging through his hair. “About how amazing you look when you’re covered in sweat, after you’ve given it your all.”

“Yeah?” Mitsuki’s fingers traced up his scalp, and Yamato tensed his back, fighting a shiver. He was losing himself, but they were still out in the open. He couldn’t let himself slip away. Not yet. Not until they were in the room, where he could be all Mitsuki’s, and nothing else.

“Then maybe I should put my shoes on, and go back out to practice some more. Maybe then you’ll-“

“No!” Yamato was surprised by the loudness of his own voice. He cleared his throat, suddenly sure that someone would walk in on them. He tried again. “No. That’s alright. We can find other ways to get sweaty. Right, Mitsu?”

In an instant, Mitsuki tightened his grip around Yamato’s hair. And he pulled, tugging at his skin and forcing Yamato’s head back with an audible gasp. “You sure do have a lot of perverted things to say, don’t you Yamato-san?” Mitsuki’s lips were soft against his throat, mouthing at his Adam’s apple as he spoke. “Maybe you could think of something more interesting on the way back to your room.”

Yamato nodded dumbly as Mitsuki let go.

“That is, unless I decide there are other things your mouth could be doing.”

Suddenly, Yamato wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak even if he knew what he wanted to say.  

\---

“God, you look amazing. You have no idea,” Yamato managed to mutter out, as Mitsuki slid out of his shirt. Yamato nearly clamored to the bed. Sex hadn’t been on the agenda for the night, but with Mitsuki, there was no telling where the night was going to go. And Yamato was always more than willing to follow his lead.

“That’s all you have?” Mitsuki’s smile was sly, but the blush on his chest told a different story. He crawled onto the bed, and Yamato met him almost immediately, pawing for the zipper to his pants.

“Sorry. This is harder than you think,” Yamato said, his lips against Mitsuki’s throat, his teeth gently scraping as he spoke. Mitsuki rolled his head back, inviting more. Yamato let his tongue roll against his skin, and the small sigh Mitsuki let out reverberated down to his own core. “You just tend to leave me speechless.”

“Nice recovery.”

“Thanks. I try.” Yamato pulled down Mitsuki’s pants, pooling them around his knees as he knelt on the bed in front of him. In turn, Mitsuki tugged at Yamato’s shirt, taking it off in two simple motions. Yamato’s hands went down to his pants, ready to undress himself as well, and leave them both exposed.

“Really? _That’s_ what you call trying?” His hands were in Yamato’s hair again, and Yamato tensed reflexively, ready for the force that Mitsuki always delivered, ready for Mitsuki to show him where to go. “I don’t just want praise, Yamato-san.”

His fingers tightened again around his hair. Only this time, Mitsuki pulled downwards. All the way downwards, until Yamato’s face was directly in front of Mitsuki’s clothed crotch.

“I want to be _worshipped_.”

Yamato’s thighs clenched, and he swallowed thickly with a nod. His eyes were lidded, taking in the smell of Mitsuki. He moved his face forward, mouthing against his briefs until he started to feel Mitsuki harden underneath him. “It’s good,” he finally said, as the shamelessness washed over him. “You smell so good. I want…”

“You’re touching yourself,” Mitsuki stated with a small smile, and Yamato immediately looked down. He pulled his hand away, unaware of just how affected he was until that moment. “It’s fine. You don’t have to stop. You just like this too…is all.”

With that, a small piece of Mitsuki fell away. That piece of him that wanted to pretend he was entirely in control. That piece of him that had to be manly, and forceful, and strong. And what remained was a man who wanted to give just as much as received.

Yamato’s hands crept upward, dancing against the skin of Mitsuki’s hips, digging in. He chased the feeling with his mouth, reveling as Mitsuki shuddered above him. And he realized that it was okay to receive just as much as it was to give.

“Of course I am. You’re incredible, Mitsu.” Yamato spoke against his skin, as though the words would somehow get lost against the expanse of Mitsuki’s muscle. “You never back down. You never give up. When you see something you want, you take it. And somehow you want me. Anyone would be excited.”

Yamato let his tongue drag up against Mitsuki’s skin, towards his chest. He bit into his pectoral, lightly, and Mitsuki’s fingers clenched into Yamato’s shoulders, nails against his skin. Yamato straightened up, and Mitsuki moved forward, draping his arms around Yamato as he lowered his head into Yamato’s neck. And Yamato let out a gasp of his own, as soon as he felt the scrape of teeth.

“ _Yes_ ,” he managed to choke out. Mitsuki ravaged his neck with his tongue and teeth, as if thanking Yamato for his kind words. “That. That’s good.”

Mitsuki’s body was completely flushed against him, their cocks pressed together. And Yamato moaned at the contact, even through the layers of their underwear.

“You just…feel so good,” Yamato threw his head back, praying he could wear a turtleneck to his shoot tomorrow. But tomorrow didn’t matter. Not in that moment. Mitsuki was against his skin. Mitsuki was pulling at him, taking him over, and filling his head with nothing but sensation. Tearing Yamato apart until the only thing that remained were the pieces that existed to worship and please.

And Yamato wanted to worship and please Mitsuki Izumi.

Mitsuki pulled at Yamato’s underwear, already halfway down his legs and caught around his knees. The other man muttered something, but Yamato couldn’t make out the words. He only wanted to be completely undressed. And he wanted to undress Mitsuki. He pulled at his briefs, until Mitsuki lifted his legs, and they were both naked.

“Amazing,” Yamato whispered, the praise slowly becoming natural once again.  After all, there was nothing unnatural about telling Mitsuki exactly what he needed to hear. “Everyone stares at you, you know. Whenever you’re shirtless. Whenever you stop being cute and show off that manly side of you. No one can take their eyes off of you. I can’t…I can’t stop staring at you.” His fingers crept down, thumping against Mitsuki’s hip bones.

Mitsuki was silent, for a long moment, his hands stilled once again. And Yamato dared to look up at him, meeting his eyes directly. Mitsuki’s lips were stern, but his eyes were fierce, predatory, and _alive._ And he was staring at Yamato as though he wanted to devour him.

“Actually, I was right before. I think your mouth _could_ be doing other things.”

Mitsuki smirked, and Yamato sank downwards, helplessly.

Worshipping Mitsuki’s cock was no different than praising the rest of Mitsuki, Yamato decided, upon the first taste. Mitsuki was responsive in all ways, excitable in every aspect of his body and mind. And Yamato felt it thrum within him, his own cock rubbing against the covers as he lifted his ass, grinding slowly as he worked on Mitsuki.

“Y-Yamato,” Mitsuki whispered, threading his fingers through Yamato’s hair. Only this time, it was gentle. It was encouraging, and the demanding Mitsuki gave way towards neediness. Still in control, still always commanding and ever-present. But desperate, wanting, and searching.

Yamato took Mitsuki into his mouth, fully, beginning to fear what he might say otherwise. He pursed his lips, working the cock through him, wondering what other praise he could say, right now while Mitsuki was moaning above him. While Mitsuki couldn’t hear him. While his mouth was full and the words wouldn’t mean anything.

He could tell him how much he changed his life. He could tell him how much he pushed Yamato forward. He could tell him all those things that were too new to say out loud, things that he kept promising he’d confess, but still couldn’t find the words. He was so close, to finally telling Mitsuki Izumi just how much he loved him.

Unfortunately, Mitsuki was close too. His body was covered in sweat, thrusting forward as he fucked Yamato’s mouth, with the vigor that he approached everything. Yamato’s looked up through the rims of his glasses, barely making out the smile on Mitsuki’s face, lost to pleasure but still wanting more. _Needing_ more.

Yamato pulled away, and Mitsuki almost immediately pushed him down onto the mattress. Yamato kicked out his legs, until he was on his back. He needed condoms. He needed lube. And he needed them now. Because Mitsuki was leaning over him, moving in closer until he was straddling him. And Yamato Nikaidou needed to be _fucked_.

Mitsuki worked him open, slowly, and panting. And Yamato’s breath shortened as well, working his hips forward as his vision struggled to focus on Mitsuki. The man hung above him, bright eyes staring intently, waiting for the right moment. Sweat accumulated lightly on his skin, and his muscles tensed as he worked his fingers in and out. Yamato moved with him, desperate not to close his eyes.

Suddenly, the pressure became pleasure, and the movements became faster. Yamato wasn’t sure who had picked up the pace, but suddenly he couldn’t stop. “Mitsu…”

“Right, right,” Mitsuki laughed, but his voice was shaking. He could feel every inch of Mitsuki tremble above him. Yamato let Mitsuki pull out his fingers, realizing just how badly they both wanted each other. Yamato reached up, for a moment, to touch his boyfriend’s face, wondering exactly why it was so hard to tell him just how far he’s fallen.

Mitsuki cradled into the touch, for only a moment, before returning to his task. And he did it with absolute dedication, and utmost attention and care. Yamato fell back into the bed again, letting Mitsuki fill him. “Come on,” Mitsuki finally huffed, before Yamato remembered his task. That he was supposed to be communicating. When they first got together, they promised to better communicate.

“Feels good,” he croaked out again. “Shit, just like that. Just like…god it’s good.”

He could feel Mitsuki twitch inside of him, and he couldn’t for the life of him remeber why it was usually so hard to be honest like this.

“Mitsu, please. You’re so good. Just keep doing that.”

Mitsuki was getting close again, his eyes distant and mouth open, working himself into Yamato like he couldn’t stop himself. He planted sloppy kisses everywhere he could touch, biting into him like he owned him. And Yamato’s hands worked at his own cock, nearly cramped under the sheer amount of pressure, wondering how much longer either of them could take.

“You’re…you’re incredible, Mitsu.”

He was too close. It was too much, and he needed Mitsuki to come. He struggled for the words, lifting his legs to dig his heels into Mitsuki’s back, driving him closer. His back ached, and his body was coated in sweat, and he couldn’t stop sputtering out praise, as though it was all he could say. Every single “good” and “that’s right” seemed to only goad his boyfriend on, pushing him ever-forward, until…

Yamato sputtered out, without thinking, “Yes, that’s it. Good…good boy.”

Mitsuki threw his head back, and whined loudly.

And just like that, Yamato was coming.

They were on top of each other a few long moments later, Mitsuki collapsed on top of his boyfriend as Yamato mindless pet through his hair, staring at the ceiling with a long slow breath. Mitsuki was staring at him, he knew it, but he needed a moment before he could look at the man again.

“Hey,” Mitsuki flicked him on the cheek, rolling off of him and never once glancing away. “Was that okay?”

Yamato laughed. “Hang on. Let me think about it.” He looked down at himself, slick with sweat and fully satiated. “Yeah I think it was good. Great, even.” He let his head fall back onto the pillow, before pausing. He finally looked over at Mitsuki, still staring at him, carefully, his eyes searching. And if Yamato didn’t know better, he almost looked timid.

He frowned.

“Was it good for you too?” Yamato finally asked, his words falling flat, wondering where such a ham-fisted line came from.

“Of course it was!” Mitsuki said, sitting up on the bed. “I just…I had never talked about it and we didn’t really start doing…this all that long ago. We never really…you know… _talked_ about what we wanted. I want to know what I can do better.”

“That’s just like you, Mitsu,” Yamato sighed, feeling the final coil inside his stomach loosen. Mitsuki had felt it too; those awkward first steps, the stumbling along as their relationship shifted and molded to their desires. And Yamato finally felt like he understood:

Mitsuki didn’t just want to be praised. It was never about praise. Mitsuki wanted to be _good enough_.

“You were perfect,” Yamato finally sighed. “You actually always have been. Even outside of the bedroom. I guess you’re just my type, Mitsu,” he sat up on the bed. Sex was something Yamato was familiar with, from porn and what little experience he had in college. Pillow talk, however, was something different entirely. Let alone a full post-game breakdown like Mitsuki seemed to want.

Communication, he reminded himself.

“Maybe next time, you can try tying me up?” He finally spat out.

Mitsuki raised an eyebrow, and a smirk grew on his lips. Suddenly, Yamato felt like he was both flying and falling all at once, and he wasn’t sure if he had said too much, or said exactly the right amount.

“Eh? You really are a pervert, aren’t you?” Mitsuki teased, but his eyes were gentle. “I suppose I could try, just for you.”  

Yamato raised an eyebrow. “Me? A pervert? You came when I called you a Good Boy.”

“ _Shut up_ , Old Man.” Mitsuki grabbed for Yamato’s pillow, and lunged for him, slapping him directly across the face, laughing all the while. And Yamato laughed as well, weightless and bright, knowing that somehow, they were going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you as always to my beta, Rokarca, and a big thank you to you for reading! If you ever want to chat, or have any fic prompts/requests, please feel free to message me over on [twitter](https://twitter.com/pompouspicklep)!


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